Keep the Past Behind You
by NCCJFAN
Summary: FINISHED! A wealthy businessman dies after a microchip has been implanted in his spinal column. Of course, Woody and Jordan have to work together to figure out exactly what happened. NOW GETTING TO THE WJ PART...
1. Monday Morning Hangovers and Murders

**Disclaimer: I don't own Crossing Jordan or any of its characters. Wish I did. Oh, the chaos I would cause....**

**Chapter One**

Monday. It always happened on Monday. Jordan held her head and groaned as the incessant ringing of her cell phone woke her from a deep sleep. It always seemed that she was left to clean up the aftermath of people's bloody weekends too early on Monday mornings.

Still holding her head and nursing a hangover, she stumbled across the bedroom to where her cell phone was charging. "Cavanaugh...and whoever this is better have one hell of a good excuse for calling at," she glanced down at her wristwatch, "five frigging thirty on a Monday morning."

"Good morning to you, too, Sunshine," greeted a voice on the other end. It was Bug.

"Damn, Bug, what is it?" Her head was pounding and her stomach had decidedly not settled into the new work week.

"Hilton downtown. Man found dead of probable gunshot wound to the chest. Looks pretty open and shut right now. But you're up. It's your call. He's on the ninth floor. Garret's on his way, too. Seems like the deceased is some kind of bigwig."

Jordan sighed. "Thanks, Bug. Let me grab a shower and a cup of coffee and I'll be right on over."

Bug grinned. "Hope I didn't interrupt anything?"

"No. No chance. See you later, Bug."

"Okay, and Jordan?"

"Yeah?"

"Have a nice day."

Jordan slammed her phone shut. _Have a nice day, my ass_, she thought as she climbed into the shower, letting the water wash away her headache and upset stomach. Forty-five minutes and three cups of coffee later, she was at the hotel suite on the ninth floor. Garret had also just arrived and had just begun his preliminary examination of the victim. "What do we have?" Jordan asked softly, noting that there were more detectives than normal at the crime scene.

"We have one Mr. Philip Buchanan. Apparently died of a single gunshot wound to the chest. And from the looks of things, it was self-inflicted."

Jordan looked around the crime scene carefully. Something did not seem normal for a typical suicide...there were too many cops. Too many detectives. They were being watched too carefully. "Who is this guy?" she asked Garret, as she took Philip's liver temperature.

"Philip Buchanan is...was....a multi-millionaire. He made most of his initial fortune as an executive investment broker with one of the largest firms in the United States. Lately, he has been known to champion, underwrite, and sponsor new software and microchip development. And I mean micro-microchips. I've read they were developing some as small as the head of a pin.

"He's been written up in _Fortune 500_, listed as one of the five richest men in America, one of the ten richest men in the world. He has a lovely wife, three grown children, and five grandchildren. Houses in the Hamptons, Martha's Vineyard, Key Largo .... Boats, cars, you name it, he has it."

"Wow...then why would a guy with so much money, so much going for him, want to kill himself?"

"We don't know," said a voice behind Jordan. "And that's why I'm here. To find out why."

The voice caught Jordan unaware and with her defenses down. Even though he was still in Boston, they didn't see each other much anymore because he had moved from homicide several years earlier. Woody had transferred out of that division into the white collar crime division. "And why exactly is a corporate crime cop at the scene of a suicide?" asked Garret, warily. White collar crime investigators were known more for their skill with computers and accounting ledgers than with forensics.

Woody smiled grimly. He knew how he was now perceived by the morgue staff...as well as some of the homicide detectives he used to work with. "I used to work homicide not so long ago. I haven't forgotten much...if anything at all. This guy could have been a target of inner corporate sabotage, caught in the crossfire between rival corporations, or his kids could have just gotten tired of waiting on their inheritance. My chief thought I was uniquely qualified to deal with this....situation."

Jordan kept her head down and didn't say anything. She still saw him on occasion. Police functions. Weddings and funerals of mutual friends. An occasional christening. But not daily any more. Not since his transfer about two years ago. And whenever she saw him, she was still struck with the fact that she missed him...even after everything that had happened. "Say, Garret, are we ready to bag him and go?"

Garret nodded and Jordan proceeded to give orders to the other detectives assisting her. She was anxious to get Mr. Buchanan back to the morgue...back to her turf. She would do the autopsy, declare it a suicide, and then get on with her week.

"Are you going to start him when you get back?" Woody asked her.

"Yeah. If there's an autopsy room available."

"Good. I'll see you there."

_Great. Woody back at the morgue. What a way to start a Monday. _She groaned as the headache from her hangover began to rear its ugly head again.

* * *

Jordan drove herself to the morgue, lost in deep thought. She rarely saw him anymore...she rarely had reason to. She dealt with homicide detectives. Woody was no longer in homicide. Yes, she still saw him a couple of times a year. And when circumstance or situation threw them together, they did make small talk. They were civil. Despite of everything...But she could count on one hand the times this had happened...and have fingers left over. When Woody had left homicide, he had left more than that part of his career behind. To Jordan, it appeared he buried everything associated with that part of his life so deep that there was no chance it would ever be resurrected. Including her. And he didn't seem to want any reminders of that part of his past.

She hadn't pushed the issue then. She knew he had been dealing with a lot. And to be honest, the fact that he requested a transfer hadn't surprised her. Their relationship had been going nowhere. The past kept keeping them apart. Her mother's murder. Her father's disappearance. James. So when a new, perky, blonde, blue-eyed ME showed up at the morgue, it didn't shock her that Devan and Woody began dating. She had been jealous at first, but then came to the conclusion that she had no right to be jealous over something she really didn't ever have to begin with – Woody.

And it had appeared that the two were really becoming a couple. Until that night. Until the airplane crash. Until Woody pulled the manifest and realized that Devan had been on the plane. He had helped process the scene. He helped return her remains to her mother. And then he had transferred out to white collar crimes. And that was pretty much the last time Jordan had even talked to him. He changed his cell phone number. He moved from his tiny, one-room apartment.

And her life went on, too. She worked constantly. First, it was at the morgue and at the Pogue. Then her father had returned and she mainly marked her hours in autopsy and trace. Occasionally, she would help Max out on the weekends, but not often anymore. She had become intensely focused on her career. At one time, she would have shied away from promotions because they indicated she would have to bear more responsibility. Now she relished in it. And the pay.

With the increase in pay, Jordan had also moved into a bigger place, away from Pearle Street and apartment 311. She had a townhouse in the older, downtown section of Boston now, within walking distance of the morgue on good days. It had three bedrooms, two baths...a garden tub. It even had a patio area with a small yard where she was actually growing plants. She had no idea if Woody knew. She had no idea if he even cared.

But seeing him again had raised her emotions and her hackles. And now she had to work with him again. Hopefully, it would be brief. Hopefully it would be quick.

And hopefully, it would be painless.


	2. One Strange Autopsy

**Chapter Two**

Woody stopped in at the front desk at the morgue and picked up a visitor's pass. Since he was no longer with homicide, he no longer had carte blanche access to autopsy and trace. He was sure Garret would arrange something for him, at least until the Philip Buchanan case was solved. He walked down the hall to where Lily's office was. "Hey, Lily," he called out, pausing at the grief counselor's door.

"Woody! What are you doing here?" She rose from her desk to give him a quick hug.

"Had a big corporate guy take a bullet this morning. Chief sent me over."

"Oh....the Philip Buchanan thing...Jordan's working with him now."

"Where's she at?"

Lily checked her chart. "Autopsy three."

"Autopsy three? Where's that? You used to have only two..."

"It's around the corner from her office. It's a more private autopsy room...with more of the expensive equipment. It's saved for our more....affluent victims or victims that had died under really suspicious circumstances. You can't miss it."

"Oh. Okay. Thanks Lily. And you're looking wonderful."

"Thanks, Woody. You, too."

He walked down the hall towards Jordan's office. Nothing much had changed. Nigel's and Bug's offices were still where they were. So was Garret's...and so was Jordan's. He hadn't been back since his transfer to white collar crimes. He paused by her office door. Still pretty much the same, but she had finally persuaded Garret to let her paint it a pale lavender. She had hung a few pictures. There were even a few plants. And there were some photos on her desk. A recent one of her and Max. Woody smiled. He didn't know Max was back. He was truly glad for Jordan. One of her and Nigel. One of her and Garret. One of her and Lily. One of Bug and Lily. None of him anymore. Not that he expected it. As a matter of fact, as well as he could remember, she had slowly removed his when he began seeing Devan. He pulled himself away from the door and headed down to the new autopsy room.

He could see her through the doors. She was still working on the body with trace. He quietly swung the doors open. "What do you know?" he asked.

Jordan jumped at the sound of his voice. He had startled her. She had been so engrossed in her work that she didn't hear him come in. "I know quite a bit right now," she said. "You may need to come in and sit down.

"To begin with, your guy didn't shoot himself. There are print marks of the gun on his palms, yes, but no gunpowder residue. So your guy didn't commit suicide. He was killed."

"Do we know when?"

"Well, the best that lividity and liver temperature tell us, roughly 14 hours ago."

"That doesn't mesh the time that witnesses said they heard the gunshot..."

"Yeah, I know. But the facts don't lie. Your guy didn't kill himself and he was dead before he was shot."

"Okay, the shooting was an attempted cover up. So do we know how he died?"

"Not yet. Let me do the autopsy and hopefully I'll have some answers for you."

"Mind if I stay?"

"Knock yourself out," she said as she proceeded to do the Y-incision and begin her detailed autopsy of the victim.

Woody watched her in silence. Watching her work brought back so many old memories – some of them incredibly good. And some of them incredibly painful. He had learned a lot in the morgue. About forensics, about life....about love.

He had pursued her. Gallantly, patiently, carefully. And it hadn't worked. He had been fascinated by her from the beginning....her beauty, her brains...her past. A past that so closely mirrored his own it was scary. And it was due to his past that he understood her so well. What it was like to lose a mother at a young age. What it was like to have a cop as a father.

What it was like to miss your dad so incredibly much. The only thing different was that Max had come back. His father never would.

But he had never let her know this. Never. Not once. He had let Jordan go on thinking he was truly the happy-go-lucky detective from Kewuanne, Wisconsin. Somewhat innocent. Somewhat blundering. Overly hyper. He had never once told her the truth about himself...or his dark past. He didn't know if he hadn't wanted to burden her with his own best-kept secrets or if he just hadn't wanted to talk about them – in the hopes that if he ignored them, they would truly go away. Never have existed. And Jordan would continue to think about him in the same way.

Only he couldn't live like that. After three years, he couldn't deal with it anymore. After the Maulden fiasco, he could feel her pulling away from him. And then came Devan.

Devan. Poor Devan. Devan had touched him in a way that Jordan didn't. She listened to him. Despite the fact that she was a driven woman, she was driven by her ambitions, not her past. She was eager to learn, eager to please, and eager to know him better.

She had listened to his problems, sympathized with his issues. She had taken time to go places with him. He didn't love her, God and she had known that. But he did care for her. And when she died in the airplane crash, he knew it was time to move on with his life. He had helped identify her remains. He had returned them to her family. He had gone to her memorial service. He had grieved for his friend. Then, he had requested a transfer to white collar crimes. Trained under some good men. Became very adept in his field.

And he had moved on. He traded his one bedroom apartment for a bigger one across town, nearer his new office. He wasn't in this part of Boston much anymore. He seldom saw his old detective friends. He made sure he rarely saw Jordan. He never went back to the Pogue. And he was thankful that Boston was a big enough city he could do this.

It wasn't all anger he felt with Jordan...maybe disappointment. Maybe frustration. And maybe it was more directed at himself, for not being more honest with her. For avoiding the subject. Either way, he had made a new life for himself, even purchasing a small vacation house on the bay. His weekend piece of heaven. He made more money with white crimes. He was seeing other women.

"Hey, Woody – check this out," Jordan said, bringing him out of his revere.

He walked over to the autopsy table. Jordan had Buchanan's chest open. He had never gotten used to this part of his job. Someone's insides spread out for the world to see. "What is it?" he asked.

"The bullet shouldn't have killed him. It would have definitely put him in the hospital, but not killed him...not as quickly as 911 was called. The paramedics would have stabilized him and got him to the hospital."

"So he definitely died before he was shot?"

"Yeah. In my professional opinion, the shooting was a cover up for something else. The tox screens are running now. I should have an answer for you in a few minutes. I'd take a chair and get comfortable, if I were you."

So Woody sat and watched her in silence as she worked. This was the way he remembered it – her work in the morgue. If he had to hang around for an autopsy, he had gotten used to sitting in silence. Her work engrossed her... but she processed forensics better than anyone he knew. She still did. When his chief had ordered him to go to the scene of Buchanan's death, he had called the morgue and requested her. He had been relieved when Bug had told him she was already on her way.

"Whoa. Look at this," she said when she pulled his tox screens up on the computer. He walked over to where she was at with the computer. All he saw was a bunch of graphs...peaks and valleys....and names of chemicals and words he had no clue how to pronounce, much less knew what they were.

"What am I looking at, Jordan?"

"Look...see that enzymatic spike there? Know what that means?"

Woody shook his head no.

"It means your boy had a stroke."

"He wasn't in the risk or age group for a stroke, Jordan. Are you sure?"

"Hey. The science doesn't lie. He had a stroke."

"But that makes no sense. Why would someone want to shoot a man who had died of a stroke?"

"I have no idea. Want me to keep going on this?"

"Yeah. You'd better. This is getting stranger by the minute. I'm going to head out now and talk to some of the witnesses and the other detectives on sight. Can you call me when you're through?"

"Sure. But I'll have to have your new cell phone number."

So she had tried to call him after he left homicide...and couldn't reach him. He pulled a business card out of his wallet. "This has all the information you need on it," he said and slid the card into the pocket of her scrub pants.

It took every measure of control Jordan had not to jump at the touch of his fingers.


	3. Microchips and Old Lovers

**Chapter Three**

Three hours later, Jordan finally pulled the face mask off of her. It was done...the Buchanan autopsy. She picked up the phone and called Woody.

"I'm finished," she said. "I think you need to get in here as soon as you can. This is more than different...more than interesting....this is just plain weird."

"No conspiracy theories, Jordan. Please. Just the facts."

"I don't need any conspiracies here, Hoyt. The truth is strange enough."

"I'm on my way."

Woody walked back over from homicide. He had spent the last three hours with the homicide detectives that had been on the scene. Reviewing notes, talking to witnesses again. He had found out Buchanan had met a woman in the hotel restaurant for dinner, which was nothing unusual. He would often meet prospective investors or researchers for dinner. They had eaten, walked out of the hotel, and a short while later, he had returned...alone. The desk clerks said he went back up to his room and no one saw him until the police and ambulance were called about 4 a.m. That was when the gunshot was heard. But Buchanan should have died shortly after he returned to his room, in order for everything to mesh with the forensics. No one saw anyone come in and out of his hotel room but him. Woody had ordered the surveillance tapes from the hotel's security cameras.

He pushed open the doors of autopsy three. "What...." And stopped. Jordan had the man on his stomach and his cranium was open...as a matter of fact, he was open from the top of his head, down his back, until right below the neck. Woody swallowed hard. This was a bit much for him...he had been away from homicide too long. He breathed hard to regain his composure.

"Okay, Jordan," he finally got out. "What is it..and was this necessary?"

"Absolutely. This was absolutely necessary. The man had a stroke and there was no good reason. So I began to snoop around a little some more tests."

"And what did you find?"

"Okay... Do you know what causes a stroke?"

Woody nodded. "A blood clot to the brain."

"Exactly. So I open Mr. Buchanan's head up. Guess what I don't find?"

"The clot."

"Right. So stay with me on this. I got to thinking....the brain and the circulatory systems are run on a system of involuntary muscles, right? Well...the thing that makes the heart and brain systems involuntary are a series of electrical impulses that run through the body...programming it to know what do, when to do it, and how often. If something interrupts that electrical systems, it would be the same thing as say, shorting out the circuit in your kitchen...your appliances would blow. So I began to look at something that could short out Mr. Buchanan's body's electrical system. It would have to be something placed around the central nervous system, close to the brain. So I began to examine the cord from the base of the brain down his back. And look at what I found." She held up a small, plastic jar. Inside the jar was black square no bigger than the tip of an ink pen.

"What is that?"

"Nigel says it's a microchip. This thing was implanted about three inches down from the base of his brain, in his spinal cord, and short circuited his body's electrical system. It caused his stroke."

"How could something like this be inserted?"

"It's easy. All you need is one of those guns like animal breeders or farmers have that can put microchips in animals to help find them when they're lost. Those are not difficult to find or use."

Woody went up to her and took the jar out of her hand. Such a tiny little piece of electronics could cause such devastation. "Are you sure, Jordan?"

"Yes. I am."

Woody sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Nothing was ever easy...especially when she was involved. But she would get to the bottom of things...discover the truth. He didn't doubt her words as far as this went. "Okay...this is the main piece of the puzzle. Now we need to discover who he was having dinner with and who shot him to try to cover this up."

"And then the mystery is solved?"

"Maybe...."

* * *

Woody had left the morgue and Jordan had peeled off her scrubs, getting ready to go home. She was tired....physically and emotionally. Her morning had begun earlier than usual, and she had to deal with the after effects of a hangover. Then the autopsy was complicated....and long. And then there was Woody and all the emotions seeing him again brought up. She went back to her office and was getting her things together when she heard a noise by her doorway. "Whoever you are, I'm going home. It can wait until tomorrow. Tomorrow after lunch, as a matter of fact. If you need something, talk to Nigel, he's on rotation tonight."

"Even for me, Jordan?"

Jordan froze at the sound of his voice. God, how many years had it been? Four? Five? She couldn't recall. The only thing she remembered saying as she turned around to face him was, "Eddie...."

The tall man pulled away from where he had propped himself on the doorway and walked over to her. "God, Jordan. You haven't changed. Your still has ornery as ever. And just as beautiful." He caught her up in a tight hug.

Jordan hugged him back. It had been so long since she had last seen Eddie Winslow – since the case so long ago when they had found that abandoned baby in the cellar of a building. Shortly after that, he had taken a new job...with the Massachusetts State Bureau of Investigation. She heard he had moved away from Boston. "Oh, Lord, Eddie...what brings you back to Boston?"

"You....you good-looking thing you."

Jordan felt the red creep up in her cheeks. Eddie had been her father's partner before he was forced to retire. Eddie and she had been close during those days...dating. She had been oh, so young and innocent then. And he could still make her blush like a school girl. She felt him kiss the top of her head before he let her go.

"So how you doing, Jordy?"

No one..no one except Eddie could call her Jordy and get away with it. "Good. You?"

"I'm good, too. How's Max?"

"He's fine. Still has the bar."

"I'll drop by and see him while I'm in town."

"So, Eddie....why are you in town. Haven't seen you in years. Why the sudden urge to drop by and see how things are?"

"Philip Buchanan."

"The Buchanan case? I thought the Boston PD was handling that..."

"They are. And so are we."

"Why?"

"Because this case goes deeper than you can imagine. I hear Woody Hoyt is handling it for the PD. Do you know him?"

Jordan nearly laughed out loud. "Yeah, I know him, Eddie."

Eddie looked at her sharply. "And?"

"He's a good cop."

"And?"

"That's all. Woody's a good cop. So I guess I'll be working with both you guys."

Eddie nodded. Jordan suddenly felt like the cream center of an Oreo cookie.


	4. Just Make Them Go Away

**Chapter Four**

The cream center of an Oreo or a piece of rope in a tug of war – that's what Jordan ended up feeling like the next week. If Eddie had been the least bit hesitant about working with Woody, Woody was even more reluctant to share what he had found out with Eddie....even when he was ordered to do so. And both of them men seemed ready to put her in the middle whenever necessary. And she was getting tired of being caught between the crosshairs of these two alpha males.

Woody knew who the woman was the met with Philip Buchanan in the hotel restaurant. He had done his leg work. He didn't want the MSBI to have what he had worked his butt off to find out. He was hot on her trail. Eddie had found out bits and pieces about the recent financial transactions concerning Buchanan and various microchip firms. The problem that Jordan was experiencing was that both of the men were trying to get information from her without the other knowing.

And Jordan had been just has honest with Eddie as she had with Woody. Both men had everything she knew about the autopsy. Both men had seen the reports on the chip. She had talked to both at length. It just seemed to her that Eddie and Woody were in a pissing contest with each other...and she was prize. If Eddie tried to persuade her to help him, then Woody would come right back at her and try to sweet-talk his way into winning her over to work with him. Then Eddie would retaliate.

She was sitting in her office thinking about how to handle this, her head in her hands, when Nigel came in with some tox reports for her. "Headache, love?" he asked.

"Sort of."

"Migraine, tension, or sinus? No, let me guess....tension."

Jordan grimaced. "How'd you guess?"

"I just saw those two leave....you looked awfully uncomfortable, caught between two old lovers."

Jordan sighed. "It's more than that, Nige. These guys aren't playing well together, and this case is going to take forever to solve unless they start sharing information."

"It sounds like they're getting very territorial..."

"They are....trying to out better the other. The problem is, I'm in the middle...and I don't know anymore than they do."

"Hmmmmm. Do you think it's the case, or do you think it's you, love?"

"What do you mean, Nige?"

"Well.....I got here only on the tail end of the thing you had with Eddie Winslow. But I heard you dated him while you were in med school and residency. Then, after he turned your father in and Max had to resign, you broke up with him and headed to LA. To a new job. When you came back here, you two made up....he was still crazy about you, but you wouldn't commit to him. So, he left. And a couple of years later, in waltzes Woodrow....and everyone knows about you and him. So...do you think your two alpha males are territorial over the case....or territorial over you? Each one seeing if they could possible win you over again?"

"I don't know, Nigel. I just want the case solved and them both to go back to wherever they came from...and me to get on with my work and my life."

"What life, Jordan? Everyone knows work is your life."

Jordan chuckled. What he said was true....she worked all the time. Except for her jogs in the park and occasional night out with co-workers, she really didn't have a life. She didn't date anymore. Men were more trouble than they were worth...and wrecked havoc on her peace of mind. They generally had one goal in mind, and that was getting her into their bed. And she didn't play those games longer. Not since Woody. Not since he broke her heart. Men cost her far more in the end than any one night of pleasure may be worth.

"We could put an end to this, you know," Nigel said softly, taking her hand in his.

"Just what do you have in mind?"

"Well, we could run off and get married...tell everyone were madly, passionately in love," he paused and laughed at her smirk, "or you and I could solve this case together, and spin these men around and send them back to their own offices and get them the bloody hell out of yours."

Jordan grinned at him. "If we can get Garret to agree, I'm with you all the way."

"Then will you marry me?" he teased.

"You wouldn't be able to keep up with me, Nige. You wouldn't be able to walk for a month," she said, playfully laughing at him and getting up from her chair. "Let's go talk to Garret."

* * *

"You want to what?" was Garret's response to Jordan's request.

"I want to solve it. And I need Nigel to help me."

"But I need you here, Jordan. In the morgue. Autopsy...trace...you know, the stuff in your job description."

"Look, with Eddie and Woody hanging around my office, I can't get a damn thing done now...and neither can Nige because they are both tag teaming him to get information, too. Please. Let me do this so I can get them both to go back to whatever it was they were doing before Buchanan was murdered and let me get back to being a medical examiner."

Garret looked at Jordan over the rims of his glasses. She was his best ME. Hell, she was the best ME in the state of Massachusetts. Better than anyone in this office. Even better than him. And more than that, she was one of his best friends. He cared for her like a sister....and he knew the turmoil Eddie and Woody was causing in his morgue. They needed to both go back to their jobs.

And he knew what seeing Woody was doing to Jordan. She had hid her emotions well when Devan came on the scene. She had genuinely cared for Woody, but was putting her personal demons to rest before she began a relationship. It just took longer than she had anticipated. And when the blonde ME showed up, it seemed that Woody did a 180. Jordan had let him go without a fight. Garret had asked her why. "He never was really mine...I mean you can't base everything on two kisses in the California desert that happened two years ago. I can't hold him...and I can't hold on to something I probably never had to begin with. It was never meant to be. So I'm going to let him go....because I want him to be happy."

From that point on, Garret had seen Jordan change. She seemed to realize that time was limited and it was best just to be happy with what she did have...and what she did know. Garret had seen Jordan turn into a mature, warm, beautiful woman....with a sense of peace and serenity that he envied. He marveled at the change in her....often thinking how wonderful she would be with a family now. He had prayed that someone would come into her life and mend the pieces of her heart that Woody broke. He had even tried to play match maker a couple of times....to no avail. While Jordan was now a fascinating woman....she also seemed determined to stay single.

Woody and Eddie were interrupting her serenity. He hadn't seen her this much on edge in ... years. "Do it," he finally said. "Solve the case. Make two copies of everything. And turn it over to the PD and the MSBI at the same time. Then tell Eddie and Woody to kiss your ass and leave."


	5. A Slideshow and Some Answers

**Chapter Five**

Nigel had gotten the security tapes from the hotel. While the tapes had shown no one but Philip Buchanan entering or exiting his hotel room, it did show other people coming and going on the floor – in and out of their hotel rooms. On a hunch, he had found the floor plans for the hotel on internet. He discovered that Buchanan's room had an adjoining door to the next hotel room that could be opened to make a suite, if necessary. And the room that adjoined Mr. Buchanan's room had been occupied by a Mr. Avery Myers. But as far as they could tell, Mr. Myers was an insurance salesman and had no ties to microchips. It still was a bit of a puzzle.

They took the information that Woody had found about the woman and began to trace her....She turned out to be more interesting than Mr. Myers. She was Dr. Cynthia Hough, and her doctorate was in ... engineering. Electronic engineering as a matter of fact. And she had ties to a company called Celluplate. Celluplate was a new up and coming company, but its ethical practices were highly questionable. From Philip Buchanan's conservative background, it seemed unlikely that he would have business dealings with this company. The man may have been rich as Midas, but he had a strong, moral backbone....so far as they could tell. A little more snooping, and Nigel sweet-talking Philip's secretary, turned up the fact that Buchanan didn't approach Hough about investing in his work, she approached him about investing in Celluplate. He had dodged her and put her off for months, but she was tenacious. Buchanan had the funds her company desperately needed to develop their next project. His secretary said that he finally agreed to meet with Dr. Hough, "just to get her to shut up. He was going to listen to her politely, tell her no, and then get her to leave him alone."

Only something had gone horribly, horribly wrong.

It took a little more snooping to get to what happened, but within a few days, Jordan and Nigel had most of the loose ends tied up. "Phone the AM's," Nigel said, shortening his terms for the alpha males. "Tell them we're ready for them."

Jordan smiled. She and Nigel had worked their tails off the last three days....not stopping to eat or get much rest. This was one case she was more than ready to let go of. She picked up her cell phone and dialed Woody and Eddie. The meeting was set for two that afternoon.

* * *

Woody strolled down the halls of the morgue about twenty minutes before the meeting. He was hoping to catch Jordan alone...he wanted to talk to her. He had been wanting to talk to her for the last two weeks, but every time he had seen her, she had been with someone else....Eddie, Nigel, Garret. He was close to cracking this case...and then he would be shuffled back to the white collar crime office. Away from this part of Boston...away from the morgue...away from her. He had enjoyed the exquisite pain of watching her from a distance...noting how she had changed, matured....softened more around the edges, although she still had a "take-no-crap" attitude. But there was definitely something different about her...it was as if she had made peace with her past and was living in the present.

Of course the MSBI guy kept hovering around. Eddie Winslow. He had asked Nigel about this guy and what was his tie to Jordan's past. Eddie had called her Jordy. If he had ever even tried to call her Jordy, he would have been shot down. But Eddie got away with it. The closest Woody had ever gotten to calling Jordan by a nickname, was when in moments of haste or passion, he'd call her Jo. In situations where every moment counted, Jo was shorter than Jordan. And in the moments of passion, he could only get Jo out ... Jordan would stick in his throat.

Nigel had filled him in, albeit briefly. Jordan had dated Eddie as a young woman....and then again briefly after she returned to Boston. Eddie had left after Jordan refused to make a commitment. Somehow that didn't surprise him. That was the same reason he left.

But Eddie had been her lover when she was younger. He wondered if Jordan had loved Eddie. Had Eddie been the first man she had ever been with?

Did Eddie still love her?

Did she still love Eddie?

And hell, did she ever think about him....and his days in homicide as Detective Hoyt? His answer soon rounded the corner.

"Jordan?"

"Oh. Hey Woody. You're early. Have a seat in the conference room. We'll be ready to go as soon as Eddie gets here."

"Say, Jordan, do you think after this we could..."

"Jordy...." Woody heard the man coming up from behind him. It was Eddie Winslow. Woody clinched his teeth.

"Hey Eddie. You and Woody go to the conference room. Nige and I will be there in a minute." And with that, Jordan went into her office and closed the door. The two men stood there and looked at each other for a minute. Finally they both turned and walked down the hall to the designated area. It wasn't long before Jordan and Nigel joined them.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," Nigel began. "It's only through great diligence and the fact that both of you are about to drive everyone in this morgue crazy, especially one Dr. Cavanaugh, that Dr. Macy gave us, meaning Jordan and I, permission to finish tracking down most of the leads on Philip Buchanan's death. May I ask that you pay attention to the screen in front of you and I, along with the lovely Dr. Cavanaugh, will firmly set your feet on the path to discovery."

And with that, Jordan flicked off the lights in the conference room...for two reasons. First, to make the screen easier to see. Second, to keep the men's attention focused on the facts....and not the testosterone levels in each other.

Nigel showed the first picture. "Here we have Dr. Cynthia Hough, an executive vice-president with the company Celluplate. She has a degree in engineering and has pioneered some of the smallest microchips known to man. She had just developed a tiny microchip that could be implanted beneath the skin of children....a sort of tracking device that could be activated if your child was ever snatched, kidnapped, or lost. Sort a GPS for kids. It was met with resounding success. But the folks at Celluplate weren't content with this. They began to develop microchips that would go one step further. This time, the chip could control behavior. This was a novel idea...just think what it could do with society's difficult citizens...repeat offenders....child molesters. But it took away the issue of free will...it was too "Big Brother" for Celluplate's investors and stockholders."

"But Cynthia wouldn't give up her dream," continued Jordan. "So she began to search out other possible sources of funding. Enter our Philip Buchanan." She showed the slide of Philip Buchanan. "As you know, Mr. Buchanan met Dr. Hough in the Hilton's restaurant for dinner. She had been dogging him for months to meet with her. Philip had heard of Celluplate's questionable ethical practices with these chips and really wanted nothing to do with Dr. Hough or her company. He met with her simply to shut her up....to tell her no to her face and get her to leave him alone. So they meet. They leave together, and sometime between the time they left together and Mr. Buchanan returned to the Hilton, the chip was implanted in his spinal cord."

"And this chip not only could control behavior, it also let Cynthia know where he was at...what was going on...it was sophisticated tracking and behavioral device. Highly developed. Very impressive," Nigel continued, now showing a detailed diagram of the chip. Philip returns to his hotel room with the chip in his neck...whether he was aware that he had the chip or not, we're not sure. It's hard to imagine with his background that he would willingly have the chip implanted....more than likely, somehow Cynthia got it into him without him knowing it. She may have drugged him..."

"But if she did that, the drug had a very short lifespan. His tox screens came back negative for everything but a decongestant," added Jordan. She may have somehow locally anesthetized the area. We just know he came back with it on the surface of his spinal column, right around this area." She pointed to an area on the back of her neck.

"And this is where it gets interesting. The hotel security cameras show Mr. Buchanan re-entering his hotel room at ten that evening...alone. Shortly after that, he dies of a stroke. The chip has interfered with the natural electrical impulses of his body....shorting them out....causing his massive stroke. The question now is, did Dr. Hough program the chip to interfere with Buchanan's own electrical system or did it happen accidentally? Did she not test the chip enough in primates before implanting it in Buchanan? And how did the chip tell her that her man was in trouble?"

"Either way, she found out. That's where this next character gets involved." Jordan flashed a picture of Avery Myers on the screen. "Meet Mr. Avery Myers. Insurance salesman from Connecticut. No tie to microchips, but a tie to Cynthia Hough. See Nigel ran some DNA that Myers left in his hotel room against some unknown DNA on Mr. Buchanan. Seems they're a pretty close match. We believe the unknown DNA belongs to Cynthia Hough. So Myers and Hough were at least cousins....Hough planted Myers in the hotel room next to Buchanan in order to keep an eye on him. When Hough discovered that Buchanan was dead of a stroke, she had Myers take care of the cover up."

"You see, gentlemen," Nigel picked up and showed a slide of the hotel's floor plant. "Mr. Buchanan's room and Mr. Myers' room were adjoining. There was a common door between the rooms that could be opened to form a type of suite. All Myers had to do was jimmy the door open and enter Mr. Buchanan's room. Donning a pair of latex gloves, Mr. Myers broke into the room, shot Mr. Buchanan, closed and relocked the common doors, and joined the disbelieving crowd in the hall a few minutes later when the gunshot was reported."

"So the case is mostly solved," Eddie said quietly, as Jordan turned the lights back on.

"There's a few loose ends, for sure," she replied. "How did the chip actually get into Buchanan and did he have it done willingly or was he not aware of it?"

"Good work," Woody admitted. "You've almost got it tied up. We've been searching for Cynthia Hough for a week now, and she hasn't surfaced...but she will."

"Yeah. Well at least I have the answers the MSBI needed," said Eddie. "The state keeps track of electronic sales and development....especially since 9/11. I think I can go back to them with this and keep them happy. I'll be turning the rest of the work back over to you, Hoyt."

Jordan silently sighed with relief. At least that was one of them gone....now if she could just get rid of Woody, her life and heart could return to normal. But he shouldn't need her so much now ... if not at all. There was a chance that she wouldn't work with him again. She began to gather her things together to go back to her office.


	6. Good Bye Eddie?

**Chapter Six**

Jordan sighed with relief as she entered the door to her father's bar. A beer and some non-work related conversation was just what she needed. Hopefully, Nigel would show up after he had made his rounds at the Goth clubs and be willing to talk with her and maybe, if she was lucky, dance. He wasn't the best dancer in the world, but at least with him she didn't have to worry about anything getting out of hand.

"Hi Jordan. How are you doing, hon?" asked Max from behind the bar. Jordan went over and kissed her dad on the cheek.

"Better now that the Buchanan has about been solved."

"So it went well today, did it?"

"Yeah. Eddie turned it back over to Woody. The MSBI is satisfied...so far. Hopefully with the information that Nigel and I have him today, Woody will be able to catch this Cynthia Hough and we will be through with this chip case."

"Nigel joining you?"

"Maybe later. He's seeing some chick at the Goth club first."

Max shook his head. He didn't understand Nigel, but he liked him. And he liked the fact that he was Jordan's friend even better. Nigel looked out for Jordan...in much the same way that Garret did. For that, Max was thankful. Thankful for the extra eyes on his daughter and thankful that both men were her close friends. Jordan didn't have many and frankly, Max was worried about her.

Jordan's life was her work. She didn't go out often. She was by herself most of the time. Max worried that she was lonesome, but even more worried that she didn't care that she was lonesome...that she never really tried to date anymore. When Woody left homicide, he had broken Jordan's heart, as well. She had hoped that after some time, they could put Devan behind them and maybe go on in some sort of way. But when Woody had left, he had left everything behind and didn't look back. Max didn't know it was possible to loose someone in the city of Boston, but Woody had been very effective at hiding. And he knew that for Jordan, seeing Woody this week was hell. He watched his daughter sitting alone on the barstool, nursing a Guinness. She looked tired and worn out.

The bell over the door jingled. Max looked over to who had entered his bar. "Hey Eddie," he called out.

Jordan turned around as he entered. He spotted her and went over to her. "Hi Jordy. Fancy meeting you here..."

"Yeah, imagine." She had really hoped her time with Eddie and Woody was over.

"Eddie, you still take your Scotch neat?"

"Sure do. Thanks."

Max poured him a drink and left him and Jordan alone. He liked Eddie...maybe they were trying to rekindle the old flame....maybe she'd knee him in the groin and send him back home. Who knew? Max sighed and turned away from them. _She's a grown woman,_ he kept repeating to himself. He watched as the couple made small talk.

Jordan tried to focus on Eddie, but the truth be known, she was so tired she really just wanted to go home and go to bed. He asked her to dance and she did do one round on the dance floor with him and then pleaded exhaustion and sat back down. Eddie knew when he was whipped.

"There's no chance, is there Jordy?" he asked.

"No chance for what?"

"You. Me. Us again."

"So that's what this is about?"

"No... not all of it. I came to make sure you were all right. You've worked really hard the last few days and you look tired. But yeah, I did want to see if you would ever consider going back out with me."

"Eddie, you don't even live in Boston anymore."

"Yeah, but for you, I'd move back."

Jordan looked at him, thinking he was joking. The man was dead serious. "I'd move back....buy a house...with a fence and a swing set in the backyard."

"Why Eddie? Why me?"

"You're beautiful...you're intelligent.... And I've never really gotten you out of my head. I can't tell you how happy I was to be working with you again....what it means to see you. And I meant what I said the first day. You're still just as beautiful as I remember...."

Jordan never once heard him mention love...and as much as she liked Eddie....she knew that she couldn't lead him on and let him think that he could be the one in her life when her heart, or what was left of it, still belonged to the detective from Wisconsin. "I'm sorry, Eddie...but no. There's no chance."

Eddie sighed. He had heard rumors about her and Hoyt. Evidently, they were true.

"Ok, Jordan. I understand. I'll go now...would you walk with me out to my car?"

Jordan stood up and grabbed her coat and walked him out to his vehicle. He paused before he got in and gently ran a hand down Jordan's cheek. "Look, Jordan, if you change your mind...if you need me...if anything happens, will you call me? I'll always be there for you...no matter what. Okay? I know you may not feel about me the same way I do about you, but I do care for you, Jordan. Deeply." Eddie bent his head and let his lips gently brush hers. "Hoyt was stupid, you know that?" he whispered.

Jordan looked at him disbelievingly. "What makes you say that?"

"Because...he didn't realize what could have been his...or maybe he did. And if he did and he just pushed you away...then I do question the boy's sanity."

Jordan smiled up at Eddie. "Thanks...."

"Jordan, I meant what I said. If you change your mind....if you get tired of waiting on Hoyt...Let me know. I could make life very sweet for you. I promise." Eddie let his lips caress hers once more. "Bye, Jordy," he finally said, after one last kiss. He got in his car and drove away.

Jordan watched his car disappear into the cold Boston night. Eddie was a good guy. She cared for him. But she didn't love him. She knew he would make life sweet for her, but what could she offer him....parts of a broken heart? The fear that when they were making love, her mind was on another man? No. He deserved far better than that. A woman that would love him unreservedly and fill that backyard of his up with children. From what her doctors had told her, she wasn't even sure if she could have children any longer. Wearily, she decided to re-enter the bar. She was going to tell Max good night and go home. Maybe she could find some peace this weekend. She turned around and nearly ran straight into Woody. He had been standing no more than five feet from her and Eddie and she had never noticed.


	7. It's All in the Papers

**Chapter Seven**

It was all over the papers Monday morning. Jordan wasn't sure who leaked it to the press, but her name and the Buchanan case were all over the front page of the A section in the Boston papers. She had discovered the chip that had ultimately killed Buchanan. She had figured it out. And she alone could pinpoint the killer by her knowledge of how they operated.

Instead of being able to slide back into a normal work routine with anonymity, she was propelled right into the forefront of the fray. Right into the front page. And right into a seat in Woody's office. He was nervously pacing when she entered his white collar crime office...miles away from his old one...and miles away from her morgue. He stopped when she came in.

"I guess you know why you're here?" It was a statement from him, but he couched it as a question.

"I think so...the Buchanan case."

"It's all over the front page. Who'd you talk to?"

"Who'd I talk to? I haven't talked to anyone. It must be someone from your office. The only two people from the morgue that dealt with this were Nigel and me. And neither one of us have talked.

"You sure you haven't mentioned it to anyone? Not at the Pogue on Friday or anyone else this weekend?"

"No. You know as well as I do, that after we talked at the bar on Friday, I left to go home. And I stayed there most of the weekend, doing laundry, cleaning and getting caught up on some other stuff. I went grocery shopping on Saturday and ran a few errands. Other than that, I was home." God, it was awful admitting to him how boring her life had become.

"Well, when I went to your apartment on Sunday, no one came to the door."

Jordan thought for a minute. No one had knocked on her door Sunday....then she remembered. Woody didn't know she had moved away from Pearle Street. "I don't live there anymore, Woody."

He looked at her sheepishly. "Oh. I didn't think to check. I guess the person that lives there now thinks I'm insane. I kept banging on the door calling your name."

"The person that lives there wasn't at home....Nigel lives there now. And he was at work, but he would have opened the door and told you off."

Woody digested this bit of information. "Then where are you at now?"

"The town homes near the morgue...the ones that were made from that old renovated warehouse."

_She hadn't moved far, but she had moved. Away Pearle Street and all the memories it held for her, _he thought.

"So why have I been summoned, Woody?"

How was he going to phrase this so that she would take it the right way and be cooperative? He knew of no other way but just to be honest with her and pray that she would agree. "We think that your safety may be compromised because of the articles in the newspaper, Jordan."

"Compromised how?"

"We think that this Cynthia Hough and whoever her accomplices are could jeopardize your well-being...making it difficult for you to determine if they kill again or testify in court."

In other word, the police thought Jordan's life was in danger.

"So....what do you want me to do about it?"

"There's nothing you can do. We are hoping you will agree to have 24-hour police protection....and maybe relocate for a few weeks until things cool down a little."

"Woody, I'll be fine....I'll be careful."

He walked over to her and looked down into her eyes....he hadn't looked deeply into them in more than two years. He had avoided them. After he left homicide, he built up a thick skin, an amour, really, against any female. He had dated, yes. But now most women thought him cold...even calculating. He just didn't want to hurt again like he did over her. Her constant pushing him away during the years he had tried to woo her had left him raw and bleeding. He had departed from homicide and the morgue, vowing never to feel that way over a woman again. So these past few weeks that they had been working on the Buchanan case, he had avoided her on a personal level...or at least tried to. Seeing her with Eddie Winslow had nearly broken that resolve. He had determined, going into this case, to treat her like any other female in his life now. Only seeing her with another man spun him nearly out of control. And watching Eddie kiss her the other night in the parking lot of the Pogue didn't help things. He had gone there to ask her a few more questions on the case and wrap it up. Nigel said she would be there. He hadn't bargained on seeing a make out session between Jordan the guy from MSBI. It was all he could do to keep from decking the man.

But Jordan wasn't his anymore...if she ever was. At one time, he would have bet a week's wages that she would be...at least one day. Then Devan...He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair—a gesture that made it stick out in a million different directions. "Jordan, I don't think so. At least let me put a uniformed officer outside your apartment."

"No. I'll be okay...Just have an officer escort me to and from the morgue everyday and I'll be fine."

"Jordan..."

"No." And she said it in the tone that he knew he couldn't get anywhere else with her. Reluctantly, he finally agreed.

"Okay. But I'm taking you back to your office now. I need to tell Dr. Macy so that he will at least be aware of what is going on." He took her by the arm and ushered her back to the elevators and down to the lobby. They were getting in Woody's car, and Jordan had turned around to tell him how much nicer the offices in white collar crimes were than in homicide when she heard a sharp whizzing sound and felt a sharp sting in her shoulder and then her side. Quickly, Woody pushed her to the ground. She heard him radio in something to his office and suddenly the sidewalk beside her was filled with policemen. That was the last thing she remembered seeing before she lost consciousness beneath his body.

* * *

It was like an out of body experience. She regained consciousness briefly in the ambulance, when the paramedics tried to pry her hand out of Woody's. But she felt if she let go of him, she'd let go of herself and end up floating off somewhere in the horizon. She remembered emergency, where they had finally made her let go of his hand...and put in an IV. Then she felt nothing...except peacefulness and no pain....until she woke up in a stark, white room, with a stinging in her shoulder and her side.

She knew what had happened. She was too smart not to know. She slowly opened her eyes to find a pair of concerned blue ones staring back at her. "What caliber?" was all she asked.

"A .55 millimeter," he replied softly, brushing the curls out of her eyes. "How are you feeling?"

"Sore. What happened?"

"You were shot. They're looking for who did it now, although we have a good idea who was connected."

"Cynthia Hough."

He nodded. "You need to rest, Jo. The doctor was just in and said to call him when you came to." Woody reached for the call button beside her bed.

"Wait, Woody..."

"Yeah?"

"How bad did they get me?"

"Well, your shoulder got clipped pretty good. You're may be in a sling for little while."

"And my side?"

Woody was silent for a minute. He didn't want to tell her....he felt it wasn't his place, at least anymore.

"Please, Woody. Tell me straight..."

He knew she probably already had an idea. Hell, she was a doctor. "It's your ovary, Jo. It got one of your ovaries. But the other one is fine...and....and...everything else should function as normal," he finally got out, stammering a little over the words that he felt were no longer his business.

She turned her head and looked away from him. Her body functioning again as normal? She didn't think anything could make that happen again.


	8. Recovery

**Chapter Eight**

Jordan was well enough to go home in a few days...save a few stitches and some aches and pains. The doctors had armed her with medication and instructions on how to deal with her discomforts. She was ready to get out of the hospital and go back to work...back to a normal routine.

The only problem with that was the Boston PD and the MSBI didn't want her to.

Eddie Winslow had shown back up in her hospital room, demanding that she be taken to a safe house, under his jurisdiction. "Look what happened when she was with the Boston PD," he had said. "She nearly got killed."

The chief of Boston's police department wanted her firmly in his care...under his watch. It was a Boston case...she needed to stay under Boston's jurisdiction.

Nobody was asking Jordan what she wanted to do – which was really to go back home to her apartment, curl up in the fetal position, and wait until this whole thing was over. She hated that she was on call that day that Buchanan was found. She hated she had found that damn microchip. She hated she was shot.

She hated that one more chance of womanhood had been taken out of her hands and she was powerless to do anything about it.

So she did the only thing she could do...she ran.

Not far...not long...she just talked Garret into taking her back to his house after the doctors had told her she could leave the hospital. She reasoned that it wasn't her apartment...and it wasn't the morgue...so maybe Cynthia Hough and her cronies wouldn't find her. She just needed a little time to get her mind together. She was tired of Eddie's and the chief's constant bickering over where she needed to go and what she needed to do. She was well aware of the fact she wasn't safe at work or at her home...but she didn't want to go with Eddie. She really didn't want to leave Boston. After all the years she had spent away from the city, she didn't want to leave it again.

But she didn't like the chief's suggestion, either – that she be put up in a hotel or a local safe house and watched 24/7. She wanted some kind of normal routine. She was still having to work with Woody. A normal routine would help keep her sane.

So it was at Garret's that Woody finally found her...later that same day. He had gone to the hospital, only to find she had checked out. He went to her apartment...Max's house...and then nearly went crazy trying to find her. It was only after he had gone back to the morgue for the third time and Garret had returned from taking her to his house that Woody discovered where she was at...and that she was safe.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he had driven to the chief ME's house and let himself in with the key that Garret had loaned him. He found her curled up on the couch in Garret's sunny study, sound asleep...dressed in her sweatpants and a tank top, her hair loose and wavy, laying on her good side. Her incision site on the other side was still covered with a bandage, as well as the wound on her shoulder. Garret said she had taken pain medication before he had left her...and she was probably out of it. "Go in and make yourself at home...just let her rest. She's hurting...in more ways than one. When she wakes up, you can talk to her." He had handed Woody his key. "I won't be home until after midnight. Just...if you move her....be careful with her....and call me and let me know. I worry about her."

Woody sat down in Garret's easy chair beside the fire place and watched her sleep. He stayed there most of the rest of the afternoon, making a few phone calls...until he heard her begin to stir in her sleep, making small sounds of discomfort. She was hurting. He got up and went over to the couch. Sitting beside her, he gently shook her and tried to wake her. "Jo...Jo..." he said softly. "Honey...look...are you okay?"

She slowly opened her eyes, still a bit dazed...still in pain...not quite sure where she was. "Woody?"

"Yeah, it's me. I finally found you...you had me worried sick. Are you okay?"

Jordan grimaced. "The pain meds are wearing off...and I guess I sort of over did it today."

"Why did you leave the hospital without tell me?"

Jordan sighed and tried to sit up, but the pain in her side and shoulder caused her lay back down. "Oh," she said, biting her lip at the discomfort that sliced through her body. Woody helped her to prop up on the couch, easing her back down on the pillow he moved to the arm of the couch. "Why Jo?" he asked again,

"I was tired of all the bickering. I just needed to get away for a few hours and try to decide what to do – go with Eddie, or allow the Boston PD to put me up in a hotel for a few weeks."

"Which do you want to do?"

"Neither."

Woody smiled to himself. He had figured that. It was because of that issue, and the fact that he had heard her groan in pain a few times while she slept, he had made a decision.

"Jordan...I have a beach house. It's small, but it's secure. Let me take you there for a couple of weeks...until things cool off...and they find Cynthia Hough. We can work on the case from there. You can rest and get your health back."

He took her totally off guard. Alone with him for two weeks....she couldn't even begin to imagine being alone with him again. Her heart was jumping at the chance...her head was telling her no...but compared to the other two alternatives, it was the most palatable. She would just have to be careful. Very careful....with her heart most of all.

"Would it really be safe?" she asked.

"I wouldn't ask you to come if it wasn't."


	9. On the Road

**Chapter Nine**

A day later, Jordan found herself on the way to Woody's beach house. He had discussed it with the chief, who enthusiastically endorsed the plan. In his mind, Jordan would be safe...they could work on the case ..... and most importantly, the whole thing would stay in the Boston PD's jurisdiction.

Garret insisted that Jordan see her doctor one more time and get his okay. Her situation being what it was, the doctor agreed she was a lot safer at the beach house than in Boston. He told her she could take her stitches out in about 10 days. And he would make arrangements to see her if she needed him. Just nothing real physical for a while. Not only had the bullets done damage to her body, but she had lost a lot of blood. And as tiny as she was, such blood loss had worn her system down. She needed to be careful until she could get built back up again. After these orders and a brief trip to her apartment so she could gather her things and her laptop, she was in Woody's car with him, heading for his house on the Massachusetts' coastline.

He glanced over at her as they drove. She was asleep in the passenger seat. She still looked beat. She had no idea how powerless he felt when she was shot. How helpless....The emotions had even shocked him. He had firmly told himself that he would have felt that way about anyone. After she had pushed him away for the last time...after Devan, he had told himself he had to move on. Not only away from Jordan, but also in his own emotional life. He vowed then and there not to let another woman get under his skin like Jordan Marie Cavanaugh did...including Jordan. He wouldn't let her play games with his heart again.

As a result, he had become cold and calculating as far as women were concerned. He dated a lot after he had left homicide....more than he ever had before since he came to Boston, but he had been the one firmly in charge of any relationship he had. He had never gotten too attached to any woman. And when he found that he would have to work closely with Jordan one more time, he had renewed his vow. She wouldn't get to him...not again. She would find him as calculating as the other women who had cursed him in the last couple of years. He smiled grimly to himself. He had had some good times since he had left homicide...really good times...but he had been in control and hadn't vested any of his heart in his relationships....just physical pleasure. And it had garnered him the scorn of several highly attractive Boston ladies. But his heart had remained unscarred.

Except for the ones put on it by her.

So when Eddie Winslow had come by her apartment as they were getting ready to leave, Woody had been surprised at his own mounting need to punch the MSBI agent in the face. He hadn't, of course, but when Eddie told Jordan she was making a mistake, he had felt his hackles rise. Eddie tried once again, unsuccessfully, to talk her into going with him... "I can take care of you, Jordan...keep you safe....and you wouldn't have to deal with him," Woody had overheard him tell Jordan after they had gone into the privacy of her bedroom to talk.

"No. I'm not leaving Boston."

"Why? You'll be safer..."

"No. I spent too many years away. I'm not leaving again. Besides, I feel safer with Woody."

Evidently at this point, Eddie had given Jordan a hurt look because she continued, "Don't look at me that way. I do. In the past when we worked together, the man always watched my back. I was always safe with Woody. While other things may have changed between us, that fact hasn't. I know I will be safe."

"Yeah, maybe physically, but what about your heart, Jordan?"

"Believe me, Eddie, that's safe, too. Whatever we had, if anything, is long gone."

Woody had heard Garret and Nigel make nearly the same comments to her before she left Garret's house.

"I don't want to leave," she had told Garret.

"I know, but it's only temporary. Think of it as a vacation...after all, you'll be at the beach."

"Not the same..."

Garret had sighed. "I know....but at least you'll be getting some rest."

"I know... but I'd rather be working."

"You will be..."

"No. I mean at the morgue. You're short staffed as it is."

"We will make do. I'll pull in someone from another morgue. You just be careful, Jordan."

"How else can I be? I'll be under police protection 24/7."

"That's not what I mean and you know it."

Jordan nodded, only to have nearly the same conversation with Nigel on her cell phone no less than 10 minutes later. "Watch yourself, Jordan," the Brit had warned. "You know what he is capable of doing to you without him even trying....or realizing it." Nigel had watched Jordan try to put the pieces of her broken heart back together.....and it hurt himto watchher attempts. She had just seemingly got her act together...making peace with her past, her father, and her issues. She was becoming a beautiful, warm woman....reaching her full potential. Nigel had hoped, deep down inside, that as more time passed, and Woody became a distant, hazy memory, that Jordan might turn to him .... It hadn't happened yet...and if Woody did break her heart again, it may take her another two years to sew what was left of it back together again. If she was even able to do this. And while he was a patient man, and would wait....he didn't know if her heart could take another shock. She may never recover.

Woody pulled into the driveway of his beach house and turned off the engine. He gently shook Jordan. "We're here, Jo," he said, a little harsher than he meant to.

She sat up carefully, mindful of her stitches. "Oh, Woody...it's beautiful."


	10. Grown Men

**Chapter 10**

It was a simple, two bedroom, two bath beach house, nestled in the back of a bay. Woody could walk out the glass doors of his den and be nearly right in the water. He took Jordan's things into her bedroom and left her alone to get settled. Then he unpacked his own and set up his laptop in the den. He imagined she would do the same.

This was his place for solitude. He would come here to get away from everything. Other than Cal, Jordan was the only other visitor he had had. And he wanted to keep it that way. This was his place to come to recoup and regroup. He hoped it would not only keep Jordan safe, but allow her to heal from her bullet wounds. Then he wanted to turn her around and deliver her back to Garret and the morgue, safe and sound, and get on with his life.

He could do that. He knew he could. He was determined not to let her get under his skin again.

He heard her come out of her bedroom. Even though she had slept most of the way, she still looked fragile…she wore a sling when her shoulder hurt really badly…to keep it stabilized and pain-free. She still wore a dressing over the stitches in her side. It had taken fifteen stitches to close it. She had joked that her bikini-wearing days were now officially over and she didn't even have stretch marks yet. He had chuckled along with her…but the fact was he had never seen her in anything skimpier than that red dress she wore so long ago. The one that made the man in him stand up in howl.

"Settled in?" he asked her.

"Yeah…I think so."

"I need to run to the store and pick up a few things we need. Will you be okay by yourself?"

"Sure. I think I'll sit in here and watch the ocean, if that's okay?"

"That's fine…but Jordan, don't go anywhere…not outside…not on the beach…nowhere until I get back. We just don't know exactly what's going on…and don't answer anything but your cell phone and don't go to the door. I have a key and will let myself in."

"I won't."

"Jordan, I mean it." He knew her past history of following his orders….she simply didn't.

"I won't Woody. I promise."

She sat down on the couch, making good on her promise to behave. She curled up and looked at the waves…even though she lived in Boston, a port city, it had been a good while since she had been to the beach. The ocean had a calming effect on her unsteady nerves….and God knows they needed to be steady. They were frazzled from dealing with Eddie and Woody, and now spending the next two weeks or so, secluded with him … and feeling the emotions she thought she had buried deep for him rising to the surface again – she was going to need all of the wits and inner strength she could muster just to keep her heart together.

He had changed so much…he and Eddie both had. Both were really men now. Eddie was several years older than she was…he even had flecks of gray at his temples now. He had moved on…made a new life for himself, but was willing to leave that all behind if she would simply crook finger and bid him come back to Boston and her.

But she couldn't ask him to leave what he had to come back to Boston for something that didn't exist. She knew Eddie…had known him for years. He did care for her…and would make life sweet for her if she would allow it. And in time, she was sure she could even feel affection for the man. However, Eddie was a traditional Catholic. While he knew she would never give up her career, he would expect a family….several children. And it wasn't that Jordan didn't want children…she just didn't know if she could give him what his heart desired. It wouldn't be fair to him…to have a wife whose love he may always doubt and then be robbed of a family she knew he wanted.

Her heart, or what was left of it, still had Woody's name on it. That was what was making staying with him both heaven and hell at the same time. And of the two men, Woody had changed the most of all. Her innocent Farm Boy was gone. His face and his voice wore an edge that almost made her uncomfortable now. She had heard through the grapevine that he dated as veraciously as she abstained from the activity. He had seeming been successful in putting his past behind him…both her and Devan.

She hadn't. Despite the fact that she had hoped after he had mourned Devan, they could resume some kind of relationship, he had turned away from her…and still was. She grimaced. There were moments when it seemed he still cared…like the other day at Garret's when he woke her up…he had called her Jo and then honey. He seemed concerned…but it hadn't lasted long. He was probably as anxious as she was to get this over with and put this behind them, too. Then get on with their normal lives.

Besides, she reasoned, Woody wasn't that much different that Eddie. He was a fairly traditional Catholic, too. He would probably want children. And even if things were different, even if he still loved her, there was no guarantee now that she could carry a baby. She had never thought too much about kids…until recently when her motherhood status went into a tailspin. She didn't realize how much she may truly want them…how much they may mean….

It was better this way, she reasoned with herself. Woody was cold and distant. It was better that he stay that way and she do nothing to encourage any other type of relationship. She could and would remain professional. She could and would not allow him to toy with her affections. She could and would keep what was left of her heart intact.

That way there would be less to clean up afterwards and much less to try to explain.


	11. Playing the Game

**Chapter Eleven**

For three solid days, Jordan and Woody worked the case, going over each tiny detail endless numbers of times…pulling it apart and then putting it back together. The Boston PD was searching for Cynthia Hough. Woody and Jordan were trying to figure out why and how the microchip was implanted into Patrick Buchanan.

Jordan's health was slowly returning to normal. Her wounds were healing…albeit they were taking their own sweet time. She still tired easily and it frustrated her that she still could not work more than a few hours straight without tiring out. Woody told her not to worry about it, but to rest as she needed to…her well-being was most important.

And her resting gave him a break…a break from fighting the need and desire simply to put his arms around her and hold her. Sometimes his determination not to let her affect him went up in smoke…he tried to remain professionally aloof. He felt over all he was succeeding, but having to keep looking into those whiskey-colored eyes was weakening his resolve. On the third day at the beach, late in the afternoon, he noticed her energy was flagging. "Go lay down," he told her. "Rest. When you get up, you'll feel better and maybe we can piece a little more of this together." Truth be told, he needed the break, too. From her and the case. Not that Jordan was being difficult to get along with. Quite the contrary. She had developed into a warm, peaceful woman…who had put her past behind her and was living for the present. He wished he would have stayed in touch with her after he left homicide. They may have been able to work something out.

She nodded and made for the hammock. Woody had a hammock on his porch off the den. Jordan had quickly discovered it soon after they had arrived and more or less claimed it for her own. She could rest there, enjoy the breeze, hear the ocean, have solitude, and pretend, just for a little while, that things were like they were in the old days between her and Woody. Just a few moments of escapism to keep her sane. Being this close to Woody was playing havoc with her peace of mind….she felt like she was raw and bleeding on the inside all over again. But to her, he seemed to be dealing with their close proximity just fine. She snuggled down in the hammock and pulled up the light throw that Woody kept there and soon she was asleep.

Woody watched her from his desk…the soft breeze ruffling her hair, the hammock swinging gently under her slight weight. She still was incredibly beautiful…and incredibly smart. And they both were stuck on how the microchip got in Buchanan's spinal cord. He sighed. He knew what they needed to do, although he was reluctant to do so with her. They needed to play Max's game…his role playing game. It could be an emotional roller coaster, especially for the two of them. But it was the last resort. He patiently waited for a couple of hours…until he saw her begin to stir in the hammock. He went over to help her get out…sometimes that was still a little tricky for her and would pull on her stitches.

"Hey," gently helping her sit up. "Feel better?"

"Yeah," she replied, pushing her curls behind her ears. He helped her down and into the house. It still bothered him to see how weak she was…

"I've been working on the 'how' angle of this Buchanan thing why you've been resting…and I can't seem to get it together….so I was wondering if you'd be willing to play the game."

Jordan caught her breath. "I haven't done that in a long time, Woody….I don't know how good I'd be anymore."

"You were always the best at it. And it's the last thing I know to do."

She swallowed hard. "Okay," she said, entering the den in front of him. "You be Buchanan….I'll be Cynthia Hough."

* * *

"So I have developed this child tracking device and it's a huge success….but I'm not content with that. I want something more…something even better. I come up with this chip that will alter and monitor behavior," Jordan began, turning around to face him.

"But your investors thing it's too intrusive and back out. You know it's a great idea, but need some backers….that's when you contact me. But I keep telling you no…." Woody answered.

"I won't take no for an answer. I keep calling and calling until I wear you down. You finally agree to meet me in the Hilton's restaurant for dinner."

"And I still tell you no."

"Only I still won't take no for an answer. I have a back up plan….If nothing else, I'll show you how effective it is…I'll win you and your money over. I am a very determined woman."

"So now what happens? He tells her no, yet they leave the hotel together…where do they go?"

"Did they go back to her apartment?"

"No. No sign of him at her apartment…"

Jordan thought for a moment. "No. I take you somewhere else…somewhere where I can convince you of the chip's usefulness…."

"Or his usefulness," Woody said suddenly. "We've been thinking all the time that she took him back to the lab or somewhere that she could show him more details about the chip and then somehow talked him into letting her put one in him for a trial run. What if that didn't happen at all? What if she took him somewhere to seduce him?"

"Seduce him? But I thought Buchanan was a solid guy?"

"No one is lily-white, Jo. There was soft-core porn on his laptop."

Jordan backed up and started over. "Okay…so sometime during dinner I tell you it's okay that you don't want to invest in my chip. I am attracted to _you_."

Woody stepped closer to Jordan. "Yeah. And I fall for it. I mean, I've been married for a long time to the same woman…things get a little boring….you could be a little spice in my bland life…..I figure I'm out of town…we could go to your place….have some fun…I could come back to my hotel room….and no one would be the wiser."

"Only I've already got this angle figured out. No way are you coming back to my apartment…too many witnesses. I've found a hotel already and have a room set up…just incase. You fall for it hook, line and sinker."

Closing in on her, Woody picked up where Jordan left off. "Once I'm there, you offer me a drink or two….maybe drug me with something in the drink…then after the seduction scene, I pass out and bang – you use the injection gun to implant the chip in the back of my neck. And I leave, never feeling a thing…never knowing. Meanwhile you have your cousin in the room next to me at the Hilton….just in case."

"No…not quite like that….Buchanan had elevated alcohol levels in his body, but he wasn't drunk….but he was on a decongestant. Between the amount of alcohol he did have in his system and that prescription allergy medicine, he was out like a light. He didn't feel a thing."

"But I'm right about the seduction thing, aren't I, Jordan?" Woody asked so close to her now she could fill his breath on her cheek.

Looking up into his blue eyes, she realized suddenly it was hard to breathe with him this close. Swallowing hard, she nodded. "Yes…I think…" She got no further. His lips came down on hers to finish playing out the seduction scene he had in his mind…he had gotten too much into character…. "Woody," she managed to get out between kisses.

"What Jordan?"

"You need to stop. It's over…the game's over…"

"This isn't a game….we've both been wanting this since we got here…and you know it."

On that point, she had to admit he was right….she did want it, but not like this…not while pretending to be two people they weren't. And she didn't want seduction….she wanted love. She didn't want to be just another notch on his belt…like she had heard about other women…she may not deserve any better after the way she had pushed him away in the past, but she wanted more.

But if he kept kissing her like he was doing now, her resolve was going to go right out the window. Unknowingly, he provided her an out when he tightened his arms around her waist. "Oh," she said…her hand going down to cover her stitches.

Woody pulled back then. "Are you okay Jordan?" He didn't mean to hurt her…he wasn't thinking. That was the problem. The only thing he was concentrating on was how good she felt in his arms again.

"Yeah…" She gave him a half-grin. "Stitches are still a little sensitive."

"I'm sorry….I really am, Jo. I guess I got too caught up in the game…." _And your perfume, and your lips, and how soft and wonderful you still feel in my arms,_ he thought.

"That's okay…nothing happened….and I think we've made some important discoveries….When he passed out, she injected him with a chip that would allow her to alter her behavior and track his movements. With that knowledge, she could get whatever she wanted out of him….only thing she didn't count on was the stroke…and when that happened, she had Myers shoot him and set it up like suicide…she had all her bases covered." She smoothed her hair back in place…avoiding Woody's eyes. Her lips still tingled, as well as other parts…..

"Only she didn't count on you….and your finding out how she operated. That's why she's out to get you."

Jordan drew a shaky breath. "Does the Boston PD know where she is yet?"

"No…but they and along with the MSBI are looking for her 24/7. We'll get her, Jo." He walked back over to her and gently circled her waist with his hands…he bet if he really tried he could completely encircle her tiny waist with his hands to the point his fingers would meet. "You don't need to be frightened….of her…or me."

Jordan wanted to tell him that she wasn't frightened of him…but of herself…and her feelings for him.


	12. A Walk on the Beach

**Chapter Twelve**

Woody rose earlier than normal the next morning….he had a hard time getting to sleep the night before…despite a cold shower. Jordan had invaded more than his beach house…she had invaded his dreams, too. He woke more times than he wanted to count, still feeling her in his arms, thinking she was there…only be bitterly disappointed. So he had gotten up, showered, and made coffee...walking out on his back porch to look over the ocean...into the horizon and think.

She had changed. Grown. Matured. She was peaceful and warm and inviting…Before she had been attractive, alluring… seductive in her own way, but that Jordan couldn't hold a candle to _this_ Jordan. She was a woman now….And she had been sweet enough last night not to hold the end results of the "game" against him. "You just got into character too much, Woody. It happens. It's okay. And my side is fine…you didn't hurt it," she had told him before she had gone into her bedroom.

He wished he was that innocent. He wished he had just gotten too much into character…but he knew that wasn't all of it. He wanted her. He wanted the same feelings they had for each other years ago…before white collar crimes…before Devan. Only he wanted more…he wanted permanence…he wanted her for forever. Did she realize she maybe wanted the same thing?

And how did Eddie Winslow fit in all this? He had heard what the MSBI agent told her at the Pogue… that he was more than willing to move back to Boston…make life sweet for her…

Well, he be damned if that would happen. Woody swallowed the rest of his coffee….Winslow may have been her first love, but he was going to be her last. The only question he had for her, as he opened the door to go back inside, was how willing was she to go along with his plans? Was their past far enough behind them that she could let go of it and grab hold of a future together? How far was the past behind her or him? He didn't know.

"Good morning," Jordan greeted him, as she entered the kitchen, still in her tank top and girl boxers. She looked wonderful in the mornings…hair tousled, sleepy-eyed, and still a little unsteady on her tiny feet with her perfectly painted toenails. He swallowed hard…

"Morning," he managed to get out, a little gruffly.

"You're up early…"

He was about to tell her the reason why he was up so early when his cell phone ringing cut through the early morning quiet.

"Hoyt," he said.

"Hoyt," said the voice on the other end. "This is Eddie Winslow. Just wanted you to know….we've found Cynthia Hough. We're going after her now….you may want to tell Jordy that it's almost over."

Jordy…what on earth gave the man the right to call her that? "Thanks. I will," he replied, before quickly flipping his phone shut.

"That was Eddie Winslow," he finally said to her, as she was fixing herself a cup of coffee.

"Oh. What'd he want?"

"He said to tell Jordy that they know where Cynthia Hough is and they're closing in. He'll let us know when she's caught."

"Oh. Good. Then I guess it's almost over?"

"Yeah. Almost, _Jordy_. What the hell kind of nickname is that?"

Jordan grinned. "I've known Eddie since I was in high school…that's what everyone called me when I was younger."

"Jordy?"

'Yeah…Jordy, Jo, Dan, sometimes even Danny, Jordan Marie Cavanaugh when I was really big trouble, but most of the time, usually just Jordy."

Woody was momentarily relieved. So it wasn't Eddie's pet nickname for her…"So I can call you that, too?" he asked.

"Only if you want your ass kicked. I outgrew that nickname years ago," she said as she saundered back to take her shower.

* * *

Jordan passed most of her day getting caught up on some paperwork she had brought with her to Woody's beach house. He seemed preoccupied…_probably glad this is almost over and I'll be out of his house again,_ she thought. He hadn't said more than a dozen words to her all day. She wasn't sure if he still felt awkward about last night and the game getting out of hand, or if he was just happy the case was about closed. She sighed and tucked her hair behind her ears, continuing to work until the doorbell startled both of them out of their thoughts.

Woody got up and pulled his service revolver, going to the front door and cautiously opening it. It was Eddie Winslow. "Can I come in?" he asked.

Wordlessly Woody backed away from the door.

"Jordan," he said, as he caught sight of her in the den.

"Eddie…have you caught her?" she asked, meaning Cynthia Hough.

"We know where she's at and we have her under surveillance. I came here to talk to you…think we could take a walk on the beach?"

Jordan hadn't been on the beach the whole time she had been at Woody's. He hadn't offered, she had reasoned, because he didn't feel it was safe. Now things were different…the case was about closed….Eagerly, she got up and took Eddie's hand. "I'd love to see the ocean…"

Woody watched them walk down to the sand….he suddenly felt like his world had gone out with the ocean's tide…and there was nothing he could do about it.

* * *

Eddie loosely held Jordan's hand, being careful of the stitches still in her side and shoulder. "How are you feeling, Jordy? Are you healing up okay? Do you need anything?"

_Bo,y that's a loaded question,_ she thought. "I'm doing fine…I can take my stitches out today or tomorrow…and I don't need anything other than to get this woman behind bars so I can go home."

Eddie chuckled. "I figured that much….but how's it going being with Hoyt? Is he treating you right? Are you managing?"

"Woody's …..well…..he's okay. It's kind of weird being with him like this…at one time it could have been so different between us…and now…well, it's obvious he's moved on and is ready to get me out of his life again."

Eddie looked at Jordan. He couldn't imagine anyone wanting Jordan out of their life… but still, if Hoyt hadn't made a move yet, that meant that the door was still open for him. "You know my offer still stands, Jordan."

"You mean the one about the house and the fence and the swing set in the back yard?"

"Yeah."

Jordan turned to Eddie. "I'm sorry, Eddie. I do care for you…but not in that way. You'd only end up disappointed and I'd be short changing both of us….You need someone who will love you completely….My heart's been too broken by Woody for me to even think about…." Her voice caught.

Eddie pulled her to him and gently hugged her. "Oh, Jordan. I'm so sorry, baby. You and I … we could have had something at one time…I guess I waited too long….I'm so sorry he's hurt you. Do you still love him?"

He felt Jordan nod against his chest. Eddie blew out a sigh. He had heard rumors about her and Hoyt….and why he left homicide…and what Woody had done since. He didn't know if Jordan could deal with Woody now…he had heard Woody was one cold son of a bitch. And he didn't want her hurt again, regardless. "Look, I know it's tough being here with him. Why don't you get your things together and go back with me? Hough should be apprehended in a day or two…." He began to steer her back to the house.

"No. I'll stay here…like you said, it won't be long….I'll be fine." Truth was, she wanted to be near Woody for as long as she could….it was both heaven and hell, but in the end, it would add to her store of memories…which may be all she had left.

Eddie walked her to the ridge of the beach, the part right before she would turn and go up the path to Woody's house. "I've got to get back, Jordan. As soon as we have Cynthia in custody, I'll let you know so you can come back home. Take care of yourself…and if you need me, call me," he said, before he bent down and lightly kissed her lips. "I mean it, Jo," he said.

Jordan smiled at him. "I'll be fine…don't worry. Now go get that woman behind bars."

Eddie grinned at her and walked back up the path. Jordan sank down on the ridge, pulled her knees up to her chest, and crossed her arms over them. She didn't want to go through the rest of her life alone…Eddie's offer was tempting…but she knew she didn't love him. She knew it as sure as she was breathing. Her tattered heart was still Woody's despite all the work she had done to try to mend it and make it her own again. She didn't know if she would ever get over him. She wasn't sure she wanted to.

Woody understood her better than anyone. He could read her moods….make her laugh…and knew when she needed to be held without her saying a word. Or at least he used to. It had been so long since they had been together…it was difficult to know if he still remembered. From all appearances, he had seemingly forgotten about everything they used to do together except her father's role playing game. He had put everything behind him.

She hadn't been that lucky or that determined to forget. She held her memories of him around her like a warm, fuzzy blanket on a cold night. They were her comfort, her solace…her means of keeping sane. She stood back up to walk to the house. She guessed she hadn't been as successful as he had been in forgetting and starting a new life. Her past wasn't behind her at all….she wrapped herself in it everyday.


	13. After

**Chapter Thirteen**

Woody watched as Eddie kissed Jordan goodbye and walk to his car. He jealously wondered what the MSBI guy had said to her to make sit down in the sand and stay there for so long. A part of him wanted to go to her and find out what, if anything was wrong. A muscle tightened in his jaw…he was determined to find out…as soon as she got back.

He heard her come in, a few minutes later. He was about to confront her, but she spoke before he could begin. "Could you help me a minute? The doctor said I could take out my stitches today…I may need you to help me with my shoulder."

"I don't know anything about…"

"It's simple, really. I'll talk you through it. Watch me do my side." She motioned for him to follow her into her bathroom. She removed the ones in her side, quickly and professionally, wincing only once at a sensitive spot. "Do you think you can do that for my shoulder?" she asked, peeling her t-shirt away from her arm.

"I don't know, Jo. What if I hurt you?"

"You won't. I'm ready for these damn things to come out." It would be another step in her life returning to normal again.

Woody carefully clipped the ends of the stitches and gently pulled them out. "You okay?" he asked as the last one was discarded.

"Never better." She turned to him with a smile, only to find he hadn't moved…their lips were only a fraction of an inch apart. Before she could draw another breath, he was kissing her – lightly, sweetly – not like last night…He released her only to press another soft kiss on the scar at her shoulder, then gently settled her t-shirt back in place.

Jordan's stomach was doing flip-flops as he looked into her eyes again. He looked down into her eyes, and quietly asked, "What did Eddie want, Jo?"

"Is that what this is about?"

"No…but I'd still like to know….what did he say?"

"He just wanted to know if I was okay…"

"Are you?"

"I'm just fine, now that the stitches are out," she answered, trying to lighten the mood.

"That's not what I mean…"

"Then what are you talking about?"

Woody sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I mean, did you ask him to come back to Boston?"

Jordan gave him a puzzled look. "What?" Then it hit her. Woody had indeed overheard her and Eddie's conversation at the Pogue weeks ago…the one when Eddie told her he would come back to Boston and make life sweet for her, if she wanted it. But why on earth would Woody be interested in that? He was no longer interested in her…once he got back to his white collar crimes office and his new, plush apartment, she was sure that she would fade from his mind like a bad dream.

"Did you?" he asked again, bringing her out of her thoughts.

"No. No I didn't. Why?"

"I just wanted to know."

She arched an eyebrow at him, a clear sign that she didn't believe him.

"Okay, I needed to know….I mean, we haven't exactly kept up with each other since…"

"Yeah, I know. Not since Devan…..not since you left homicide." She pushed away from him. "For your information, I've been too busy for anybody. First I had my job and the Pogue. Then, after Dad came back, Garret pushed me on my ME job… training, promotions….I've been too tied up, tied down, and worn out to sustain any relationship…and then, after… after…anyway, I'm just not in a position to have anyone in my life right now. Unlike you….I hear you've dated nearly every eligible female in the greater Boston area. And left a string of broken hearts behind you and didn't give a damn."

Woody stopped hearing her midway in her tirade…after what? He stopped her before she could get out of her bathroom, blocking the door with his body. "After what, Jordan?"

"Nothing…."

"No. It's something…or you wouldn't have let nearly slip and then try to cover it up. After what?"

"I really don't want to talk about it, Woody. Please let me out."

"I think you need to."

"I can't."

"Can't or won't?"

To her horror, she felt tears begin to burn her eyes. "Please, Woody, just let it go."

"No. After what? Did something else happen about your mother's murder? What kind of trouble did you get yourself into?"

She had found herself in trouble…serious trouble, but it had nothing to do with her mother's murder. If only it had been that simple. "No," she finally managed to get out, "It had nothing to do with that."

"Then what?" He noticed the tears threatening to spill over. "You can tell me, Jo," he said, coaxingly. "You used to tell me everything…what is it?"

"If I tell you, will you promise to leave and let me get a shower, and never mention it again? Forget I said anything?"

"I can't promise that…and you know it. If it concerns you, we may need to talk about it. But I promise I will only talk about it to you…and only under circumstances that you'll be comfortable with."

She nodded and leaned back against the sink. She wanted space between her and him when she told him…it was beyond her control, but she still felt victimized and guilty all at the same time. Lowering her head and her voice, she began. "About six months after you left homicide, I had to go in for my yearly physical. You know…the woman thing. My pap smear came back cancerous. I had to go in for some procedures on my cervix. The good news is that I'm healthy…they got it all and I've been fine ever since. I go back every three months now for one and everything is fine….the bad news, is that due to the procedures, they're not sure if I'll ever be able to carry a baby to term. And now with one of my ovaries blown, I don't know if I'll ever be able to have children," her voice broke then, and she covered her face with her hands. "I know I've never even talked about kids before….but I never realized that I may want them until…until…there's this possibility that I can't. Anyway, it seems foolish to pursue any permanent relationship knowing this…I'm Catholic and would have probably married someone in the church, despite the fact that my faith hangs by sheer threads. But most Catholic men want families…that's what the church encourages. I can't guarantee any man I could …That's not the main reason I told Eddie not to come back to Boston, but it is one of them. He wants a family. I don't know if I could give him one…but I don't love him, either." The tears were coming in earnest then.

Woody tried to pull her into his arms, to comfort her, tell her everything would be fine, but she pushed him away. "Just please, don't. I don't want to hear that everything will be all right…that I'm young and there are lots of new medical procedures on the horizon, or that adoption is always an option. I have heard it all. Many times….Just please, go. Let me get a shower."

Woody swallowed hard and shut the door behind him. His heart broke for her as he heard her sob on the other side.


	14. The Hammock

**Chapter 14**

That explained a lot. Her haunted, scared look when he told her at the hospital that the bullet had taken out one of her ovaries, but everything else was working normally. Her body hadn't been normal in a long time. It also verified her rumored celibate life. He had heard through the Boston PD grapevine that since he had walked out of homicide and effectively her life, she hadn't dated any. Some of the guys had even patted him on the back – he had successfully "clipped her wings." Since he left, she hadn't found anyone to take his place and didn't seem to want to. The rumor mill had it going that Jordan had been pining for him.

He knew it wasn't true. He didn't know why she hadn't dated…but he thought that his leaving wasn't the reason. However, his actions did nothing to put the rumor to rest. He hadn't said a word in her defense. Instead, he had dated and slept with as many women possible. Other men may think it was to prove a point – his life could and would go on without her.

Woody knew differently. He was trying to get her off his mind and out of his heart.

And it hadn't worked.

He went into the den, poured himself a drink, and went walking on the beach, trying to figure everything out.

So while he was dating and enjoying the company of many eligible women, she had been in the hospital…battling cancer. Dealing with her mortality. No wonder she had matured into such a warm woman. Facing death would make you see what was important in living. No wonder she had put the demons of her past behind. She finally figured it wasn't worth the pain and trouble.

He wished she would have called him…he wished he would have kept in touch. Then maybe she wouldn't have had to face that battle alone. Evidently it must have happened while Max was away…Woody had heard he had only recently come back. Did he come back because of Jordan's illness? So many questions….and no answers. And Jordan didn't want to talk about it. For her, it was part of her past.

Part of her past that was affecting her future. Due to the fact it was now doubtful she could carry a child to term, she had determined that no man would want her…or maybe she wasn't worthy of any relationship. He could only imagine what mental hell she had been going through – by herself. He swallowed the rest of his drink. Her ability to have or not have children had no bearing on his feelings for her. He wanted her…he loved her. He had never stopped. And now he was cursing himself for not staying in touch with her.

_Be thankful for little things,_ he heard a voice in his head tell him. _You still have time. Cynthia Hough hasn't been apprehended yet. The police haven't called and said it was safe for Jordan to go home. She's turned Eddie down. Go back to the house and talk to the woman….all she can do is say no._ He turned around and walked quickly back to the beach house.

He found her in the hammock, curled up in the light throw, asleep. She had showered, changed, and came out to rest. She had let her hair dry naturally, because it was curling over her shoulders, but face still showed faint traces of her tears. Woody sat his glass down on the table and walked over the hammock. It was a large hammock…he had comfort in mind when he bought it. She looked so tiny in it…Holding his breath, he gently slid in beside her, careful not to wake her or swing the hammock too much. Cuddling her against him, he held her as he drifted off to sleep as well.

Hours later, Jordan began to break her way out of the haze of sleep. She was emotionally drained…telling Woody about what had happened to her was not in her plans….and seeing his reaction was equally as damning – the look of pity…then remorse. She had seen it too often. But something wasn't quite the same this time as she was waking up. She was being held by a pair of strong arms that had wrapped themselves around her. Hesitantly she turned her head, only to find herself staring into a pair of blue eyes….It was Woody…he was holding her. Not knowing exactly what to say, and feeling awkward, she didn't say anything. She really didn't have the opportunity. Woody did the talking.

"Hi," he said softly, reaching up and pushing the curls out of her eyes. "We need to talk."

"About what?"

"About you. Me. What you told me in the bathroom."

"I told you I don't want to talk about it. I'm fine now. Healthy as a horse."

"That's not what I mean."

"Then I have no idea what you're talking about." She tried to roll out of the hammock, but Woody pulled her back. Instead of getting out of the hammock on the opposite side of Woody, she found herself rolling into him, her body becoming flush against his.

Which was exactly what Woody wanted. He had her attention…in the best way possible.

"I just wanted to say, I'm sorry I didn't keep in touch when I left homicide. You shouldn't have had to go through this alone. I wish you hadn't had to go through it at all – but knowing you were alone makes it worse."

"It's okay…I'm okay." She tried to push herself away a little, but couldn't. He was holding her too tightly and had shifted his weight so that she was slightly under him.

"No. It's not. I acted like a bastard before I left and I never called to make sure you were okay…"

"Woody, it's fine….just please, let me up."

"I will…but not before I'm finished talking to you. If you don't want to talk about what you told me, you don't have to. But there are some things I need to say to you. And keeping you here, like this, assures me I can without you running off. So bear with me a moment and then I'll let you go." He took a deep breath and looked into her eyes. She nodded and he felt her relax against him.

"I've missed you, Jo. I know you're aware about me….and the fact that I've seen other women since I've left homicide. I know you knew about Devan. The fact was, you pushed me away so many times, that I was hoping that when you saw Devan and I together, you'd get jealous enough to do something about it. But you didn't. Then she was killed in the crash and I felt so guilty about using her….that I didn't feel right when you tried to comfort me. I was confused and felt time away would be good for me. So I transferred out of homicide, to try to get as far away as I could… just to think and try to get over you and my guilt.

"The guilt I got over….but not you. I tried everyway possible, but I couldn't get you out of my system. A new position, a new apartment, new women…but everywhere I looked I still saw you. So I decided that no other woman would make me as vulnerable as you did. I became hard. And hurtful. And I didn't give a damn what pain I caused.

"It worked, you know. Until I saw you at the Hilton….until I saw you with Eddie and realized I could lose you to him…Then you were shot. Do you have any idea how that scared me? Losing you to another man was one thing….the possibility of losing you forever was quite another.

"I don't care that you may not be able to have children…I care about you. I don't want to leave here tomorrow or whenever they apprehend Cynthia Hough and not have you back in my life. These last couple of years without you have been hell. Please, Jo…don't push me away again."

Jordan's heart thudded in her chest. How many nights had she dreamed of this? She wasn't sure it could be more than a dream…but when she looked in his eyes, she thought she saw a glimpse of reality. What might have been. "Woody…" she began. She got no further. She could no longer think coherently because his lips and tongue were painting a trail from her ear to her collarbone…and then back up to her lips. _Oh, Jesus,_ was her last tangible thought before he coaxed her mouth open and invaded it, at the same time pushing her back a little deeper in the hammock.

Her arms went around his neck on their own….she didn't have a thought running through her head, except he smelled so good…and felt even better. When he pushed aside the straps of her tank top to softly kiss the scar on her shoulder again, she didn't think her breathing would ever return to normal. It got no better when she felt his hands dive under her top and gently caress the scar on her side and then slide upwards until she felt his warm palm on her breast through the thin material of her bra. She arched against him as his caresses got more intimate, softly moaning against his lips. When he picked her up out of the hammock and carried her inside to his bedroom, she didn't protest. Not a word. It wasn't until the cool sheets hit her back that her mind began to refocus. Woody wanted to make love to her…and she wanted him to. So when he slid her tank top off, she responded by pushing his t-shirt up over his head and let it join hers on the floor. Woody worked the catch loose on her bra and soon it joined the growing pile of clothes on the floor.

When he knew he had kissed her nearly senseless, he trailed his lips down to where his hands had been gently caressing her, stopping when he heard her moan or catch her breath…knowing he had hit a particularly sensitive spot….he committed these to memory, wanting to know where to love her the best. He paused when his hands reached the waistband of her pants. Softly dropping a kiss on navel, he looked in her eyes…and she simply nodded. He quickly slid them off and then kissed his way back up to her lips once again, even while her hands were working on his pants. He pushed them down as soon as she had unfastened them, slowly unzipping them, causing him to squirm just a little under her light touch.

Woody held her close, still kissing her, while his hands went down to her petal cut briefs, now sliding them off of her. "Jordan," he whispered in her ear, causing her to shiver just a little under his touch. "Now, sweetheart?" he asked.

"Yes…please."

The years melted away during this time together. It seemed they both were intent on making up for all the months they had spent apart…They both were breathless before it was all over. Woody couldn't remember ever feeling this way with any woman. With the others, he could roll out of bed and get on with his life in a matter of minutes. With her, all he wanted to do was stay put and make the moment last as long as he could possibly drag it out. He glanced over at Jordan. She was asleep, her head tucked on his chest, her arm and leg thrown possessively over him. He grinned. That was more like the Jordan he remembered. Pulling her even closer, he had settled down to sleep himself when the ringing of his cell phone broke the silence.

"Hoyt," he said softly into the mouthpiece, trying unsuccessfully not to wake Jordan. She had heard the phone and had raised her head from his chest.

"It's Eddie. We have Hough in custody. Tell Jordan it's time to come home."


	15. Leaving the Past Behind

**Chapter Fifteen**

Jordan looked up from her desk, from the stack of paperwork that she was still wading through. Garret had tried to deal with as much of it as he could while she was in hiding, but there were some things that only she could complete. Gazing out the window of her office, she thought about what all had happened in the month since she had been back. Cynthia Hough had been caught. The DA had worked out a deal with the woman. In return for a life sentence instead of facing the death penalty, Hough had rolled over the names of some fellow co-conspirators with European connections. The INS, FBI and CIA were now on the trail. Eddie had been right. This had gone far deeper than she had imagined.

She had talked to Eddie a couple of times since she had gotten back. She thanked him for all his work, for his kindness, his concern. "No biggie," he had said. "I'll do it for you anytime, Jordy. And my offer still stands."

She had laughed and told him to go find a nice, Catholic girl somewhere and fill that backyard up with kids. "Okay," he had replied. "But if you ever change your mind…"

She wouldn't. He knew it, too.

After Woody had brought her home, he had kept in touch. They e-mailed, talked on the phone, saw each other. He even came back to the Pogue to have drinks with her. It was almost like old times…almost. And it wasn't that too much time had passed and they couldn't regain what they lost. She had changed. Physically. Despite the fact that he had told her that children didn't matter to him, she feared that if they stayed together, and as time passed, he would change his mind…he would want the family that she couldn't give him. And then he would either leave her or become so embittered against her that he wouldn't love her anymore.

Jordan couldn't handle any more losses in her life. Her mother was gone. So was the brother she never really got a chance to know. Her relationship with her father hadn't been the same since he returned to Boston. To allow Woody back in her life and then possibly lose him…she didn't know if she would recover. _I know love and life is about taking chances…but I don't know if I can risk anything else…_

The days had slipped by … from August and her days at Woody's beach house to the cool, crisp days of a Boston autumn. It was September. It was that time again. Finally, pushing away from her desk, she grabbed her purse and her jacket and made her way down the hall to the elevators. Garret stopped her briefly. "You going to be okay?" he asked.

She nodded. "I'll be fine…I may not be back today, but I'll be okay. I always am."

"If you need me, call me?"

She reached for her cell phone in her pocket. "Will do…"

"Love, you want me to go with you?" Nigel asked, poking his head out of trace.

"No. I'm really, really fine. I just need sometime alone with her …you know?"

Both men nodded and watched her get in the elevator and go down to the lobby. Garret and Nigel had been concerned about Jordan ever since she had gotten back. Since her cancer scare, she had become quieter, but after she got back with Woody, she had retreated even further in her shell. They both knew Woody had been calling her, as well as seeing her, but neither knew quite what it meant. It was Nigel's fear that she would be hurt again. And Garret feared that if she was hurt, she would never recover. "If she's not back in a few hours, or we can't get her on the phone, one of us needs to go after her," Garret told Nigel. The tall man nodded. He respected Jordan's privacy in dealing with this issue, but he was just as worried as Garret.

Jordan drove to the cemetery. She figured she'd be by herself today … the anniversary of her mother's death. She didn't expect Max to be there. He had not returned to Emily's grave since he had come back to Boston. It seemed he had put everything in his past behind him…quite often, even Jordan. He concentrated on his bar – making it a success.

She wished she could do the same. Put all of her past behind her. Forget about everything…and concentrate on the future. Forget about her health. But that was always right there in front of her. She had to go back to the doctor as soon as she had gotten home for another pap smear…which came back negative. She always seemingly held her breath while waiting on the test results.

So health-wise she was once again fine. Womanhood-wise, her afternoon spent in bed with Woody had proved to her that she could still respond to him…despite everything. Motherhood-wise….that was still up in the air. The doctors still couldn't tell her anything different. She picked up the flowers in the passenger seat beside her and got out of her car. She walked the short distance to Emily's grave. Gazing down at her mother's headstone, she pondered her mom's short life. She was now older than Emily had ever hoped to be. She thought, at least for a while, she may find a spot beside her mother…but the doctors had been wonderful. She had her health back. She had a job she loved. She had good friends. And she had a man she loved very much – Woody. And he had told her repeatedly that he loved her. Wanted to be with her – permanently this time.

Was it enough? Was love enough to keep them together? Was it enough to allow them to forget what happened years ago? "Is it enough, mom?" she whispered, as she placed the roses and lilies on Emily's grave.

"Is what enough?" a soft voice asked behind her. For a moment, Jordan thought she was hearing things. She wasn't. It was Woody.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, as he came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"I remembered what today was. I went to the morgue, thinking maybe I could come with you, but Garret and Nigel said you had already left… I took my chances that you'd still be here…. So, is what enough, Jordan?" he asked, gently turning her around so he could look into her eyes.

"Is what we have…these feelings…enough to keep us together, Woody? What if I can't have kids…how is that going to make you feel in a few years? What if…"

He silenced her with a soft kiss. "No more what if's. The answer is yes. I love you. And that's enough. Forget the past. Forget what happened years ago….Let's just think about now. It's taken us long enough to put the past behind us, let's not try to resurrect any of it. I love you, and can't imagine my life on any level without you in it. And anyone else the good Lord sees fit to send our way is just a bonus. I want to grow old with you, Jordan. And if it's only us at the end of the road, so be it."

"Are you sure?"

"As sure as I'm standing here….with you. Thinking about the future. What do you say? How do you feel about becoming Mrs. Jordan Cavanaugh Hoyt?"

"You're proposing here?"

"Seems that way. Did you want candlelight, roses, and me on one knee?"

Jordan shook her head. "No…this is fine." And she pulled him down for another kiss. "And the answer is yes."

Woody grinned against her lips…she had never been traditional, anyway.

* * *

A soft cry woke Woody out of his sleep. A soft cry and the equally soft sound of his wife singing a lullaby. He always knew Jordan had a sweet voice, but it sounded even sweeter to him when she singing to their son. He got up from their bed and padded into the kitchen, to find Jordan balancing Joseph Maxell Hoyt on one hip with one arm, while checking his bottle with her other arm. "I'm sorry…did we wake you up?"

"Nah…you know I enjoy this time, too." He took Joseph out of Jordan's arms. "Hey…what's up, son? Hungry?" Jordan handed him the bottle and they made their way to the living room of their new home. Woody had purchased the house as soon as they knew about the baby. Woody sat down on the couch long-ways, stretching out his legs in front of him. Jordan sat down behind him, putting her arms around Woody and Joe. "So when do I burp him?"

"After two ounces…and good luck. He hates giving his bottle up."

"Don't blame him. Being hungry is serious business, isn't buddy?" Woody asked his small son, who was greedily devouring the contents of the bottle. The baby just grunted. His parents chuckled.

Jordan softly caressed Joseph's fine baby hair with one hand, while gently threading her fingers of her other hand through Woody's. Joseph was one of those bonuses that Woody had talked about. Not planned. Not expected. But incredibly welcome. On an impulse, she and Woody had gone to an adoption information meeting. They were told that while they may have to wait years for a baby to come available in America, they could adopt a Russian infant in less than eighteen months.

She still wasn't sure exactly how it happened, but two months later, she and Woody had found themselves on a flight to the Ukraine. The weather had been cold and nasty, but a week and miles of paperwork later, they found themselves flying home with a tiny, male infant. And their whole world had been turned topsy-turvy. They had expected to go there and fill the paperwork out. Be interviewed…checked out. They hadn't expected to fly home with a baby right then and there. They thought it would take longer.

Woody had called Garret and told him what happened. Garret had been in as much disbelief as the couple. He had immediately given Jordan three months maternity leave…and called Rene'. Between Rene' and Lily, a baby shower to end all baby showers had been planned. Upon arrival from the Ukraine, the young family had driven to the morgue to introduce Joseph to everyone. And were bombarded with gifts…a crib, formula, monitors, toys, clothes….the baby lacked for nothing.

And what was even better, at least to Woody, was Max was there. Jordan had tried her best to reconnect with her father, but hadn't been successful. All it took was a baby to mend the gap. Max had been at the shower…he had bought his grandson a bassinet and a train set. He had tentatively shook hands with his son-in-law, who had instead caught the older man up in a hug. Woody had taken Joseph out of Jordan's arms while she likewise hugged her dad. Then Max had reached for his grandson…and lost it. The tears came….and so did the reconciliation. Now, if there ever was a doting grandfather and dad, it was Max.

"Is it time to burp him?" asked Woody, holding up the bottle for Jordan's inspection.

"Yeah. Or he'll have a really upset tummy…and none of us will sleep tonight." Woody readjusted his son over his shoulder and patted the infant's back. Joseph whimpered and burped loudly – twice.

"Takes after his old man, I see," Jordan teased as Woody resettled the baby in the crook of his arm. And ironically the baby did…to those people who didn't know Joseph wasn't their biological son, they would never guess otherwise. Joe had blue eyes and raven-colored hair. "That baby was yours from the beginning," Lily had said, "whether anyone knew it or not. It's spooky how much he looks like both of you."

"You're just jealous because you can't belch that loudly," Woody replied, looking up into his wife's eyes. "Are you happy, Jordan?" he asked, suddenly serious.

"Incredibly. Two good-looking men in my life…three months of maternity leave so I can enjoy my son….a new house…great sex, what more could a woman want?" she teased, gently kissing Woody's forehead, and pulling him closer. "What about you?"

"Me, too…well, maybe I don't have the maternity leave….but the sex is great…and Joseph is a gift…as are you. Remember what I told you?"

"Forget what happened…don't resurrect the past…concentrate on the future…"

"Yeah…and the past is behind all of us now, and the future is right here…" Woody looked down at Joseph, who had fallen asleep in the middle of taking his bottle. "Don't you think?"

Jordan nodded. Their past may have been rocky…twisted…even tenuous at times, but their future was in their arms.


End file.
